Hope . . . that which we cling to in times of trial . . . that which sustains us when nothing else will. It manifests itself in the most inconsequential of situations (I hope it doesn’t rain today since I have to get out) to the most monumental (I hope they find my child in time . . .).

It is hope that gives us the will to fight, the will to continue against seemingly insurmountable odds. In the face of illness we believe in a cure; in the face of tragedy we search for miracles.  Perhaps hope’s greatest role is in making us believe that the often improbable is possible.

In no other situation does hope play a greater role than when Death approaches. Physicians will tell you that a positive attitude is the best weapon against disease and many times that hope, that belief coupled with the will to survive, will overcome.  But sometimes a point is reached when hope must be surrendered to reality. I am not suggesting that Death be embraced when he first makes his intentions known; it is not the nature of most to readily accept his arrival.  Rather, as Dylan Thomas suggested, we

“Do not go gentle into that good night,

Old age should burn and rave at close of day;

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.”

But there are times when we can rage all we want, hope with the most fervent belief that our desires will come to pass, and find that it is all in vain. Hope may gradually fade as reality slowly intrudes; it may come crashing down upon us when it is suddenly, violently taken away.  Most often, the end result of a gradual departure is eventual acceptance . . . and then peace with what is to come.  But when hope is suddenly yanked out from under us, the pain is almost unbearable and the end result is mourning magnified tenfold.

Recently our part of the world was filled with hope—hope that a child would be brought home. But as the days passed and the weather worsened, those of us watching from a distance gradually came to realize that the odds of a happy ending were slim.  But those in the midst of the search, those who loved that child beyond words, lived and breathed hope.  It kept their world intact . . . until reality demanded that hope be dismissed.

Hope is a wonderful thing. It can gift us with superhuman endurance and faith that all will be well, a prophecy that may prove self-fulfilling.  But hope is also a double-edged sword.  It may sustain us during our darkest hours but it can crush us when it flees at the harsh light of reality.  Our response to hope rewarded is easy; we simply rejoice.  The difficult part about losing hope is not losing sight of the blessings that still remain.

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